


Breakfast in the Afternoon

by CourtneyFG



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtneyFG/pseuds/CourtneyFG
Summary: Inspired by 'The Waitress Song' by Seth SentryKorra is a musician just home from her first world tour and Asami is the waitress at the café where she is a regular.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be working on my other fics but I've had really back writer's blocks and this idea (and the song) has been in my head for awhile. 
> 
> The second half should be up within a week or two. it is mostly written but it has a few little bits that don't yet mesh right.

The quiet bustling of Wednesday traffic could be heard through the open bedroom window. The banter of school children taking the back streets, the somewhat distant sound of road rage from the main street, the roar of the jet engines from the over-head flight path, all meant she was home and after six months away, it made her feel whole. Korra rolled over to check the time on her clock radio only to be greeted by a head full of messy brown hair and groaned in frustration, “Argh. Fuck Kiyoshi!” she gave the other woman a decent shove, not enough to fully wake her up but just enough to gain her attention. “When I said you could crash here after the party, I meant on the couch, not in my bed.”

Kiyoshi mumbled something in response that she didn’t quit catch. “What was that?”

Kiyoshi opened an eye and glared at her as if she could make Korra’s skin melt off, it was a look Korra was very familiar with and it didn’t intimidate her one bit. “That couch might be big enough for you to sleep on but I’m a good six inches taller than you, besides it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” It was true, while on tour they often weren’t given much choice in sleeping arraignments, but that was beside the point.

Korra took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten, it wouldn’t go well for her if she killed the lead singer in a fit of rage. She had learnt to pick her battles when it came to the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ front woman, but it didn’t mean she had to like it. She grumbled something to herself about regaining personal space being exactly the reason she didn’t want Kiyoshi in her bed, as she rummaged though her suitcase. Once she’d found the cleanest pair of pants in there she hastily shoved them on and readjusted her singlet top as she left the bedroom. At the doorway she stopped and turned around to point a finger at the sleeping woman while she put on the most menacing scowl she could muster.

“I’m going out. I want you gone by the time I get back.” All she got in response was an obscene hand gesture but at least she knew she’d been heard.

Korra trudged down the stairs and did a quick rummage around for the essentials she’d need. “Wallet, mobile, keys, sunglasses” She recited as she patted herself down making sure all was in place before heading to the door, she briefly stopped and retrieved the deodorant from the table next to the door and gave herself a quick spray, it would have to do in lieu of a shower, at the top of her list of priorities was food. 

Her townhouse was one street back from the main road of Newtown. When the first royalty payments had come through after their first national tour, Korra had taken out a loan to buy her tiny over priced shitbox of a townhouse, in the suburb she loved most in the world. Newtown was where her parents had sent her to live when she started high school. Her father was a diplomat so her family had done a lot of moving around when she was younger but her parents had decided that she needed a regular and stable high school experience, so off she was sent to live with friends of the family, in a suburb she’d never been to before and she resented it every second of the way there, until, with her nose pressed to the window of the car, she saw it for the first time.

It was grungy and bohemian, filled with antique shops and retro stores and tattoo parlours and bars and cafes and art galleries and bookstores and street art, all a mixture of old and new. The place looked dirty, but the art deco buildings gave it charm and she instantly felt like it was where she belonged. But back then, the thing that sold Korra the most on living in Newtown, was the fact that it wasn’t just any old high school, it was one of the best high schools of the performing arts in Australia.

As Korra walked down the street it felt like no time had past, like she hadn’t just spent the past six months on a world tour, that same blue Mercedes was parked around the corner from her place in the same spot it was always parked, the kids leaving school for the day had their uniforms askew in a way that she knew the teachers would be mad if they ever saw, the questionable massage parlours had their flashing ‘Open 24hrs’ signs in the windows, this place was the one constant in her life and that included the shitty café she went to for breakfast every afternoon.

The smell of burnt coffee greeted her as she stepped through the door and she smiled to herself when she heard a customer complaining about the wait time for food, yeah, the place was just as she remembered it. Korra took a seat at her usual table and barely noticed the way the table wobbled when she sat down. The place was like an old friend in the way that she would instinctually make allowances for its shortcomings. And it had a lot of them, that’s why she only ever came here by herself.

If she was going out for coffee with friends or having lunch with her parents there were much nicer places in the area for her to take them to; places where the food was edible and timely, or even where they knew how to make decent coffee, but coming to this place wasn’t about any of that for Korra, it was about the waitress.

The first time she’d come to this place was four years ago. She’d crawled out of bed, still wearing her clothes from the night before, with the mother of hangovers. She’d shoved on her sunnys and left her place in search of the greasiest of meals to sooth her churning stomach, in the quietest café she could find. If she was 100% sober she would have noticed just how attractive the waitress was but she wasn’t. She spent the whole time in a grouchy mood because of her pounding head, she snapped at the waitress when she accidently fumbled her order and instead of going up to the counter to pay, she walked out just leaving the money on the table.

The following day she felt like the biggest douche in the world and went back to apologise. On her way there she kept running over what she was going to say to make up for her poor behaviour but when she got there the waitress greeted her with the most knowing smile she’d ever seen and simply told her to ‘take a seat’ and that she’d ‘be over in a second.’ And that was it, Korra was from that moment on a regular at the shittiest café in Newtown.

This place had grown to become Korra’s happiest place in the world. She came here to be alone but at the same time she came here for the company. Over the years the waitress and her had fallen into a rhythm, like you would expect from a couple who’d lived a lifetime together. The waitress never had to ask her order because it always stayed the same but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t talk. They’d joke around with each other and sometimes Korra would help her clean up if she’d dropped an order.

Korra had learnt a lot about the waitresses over the years. What her real laugh sounded like and also what her very fake and strained one sounded like too. It had taken her one year to learn the woman’s name though, cause every day she would wear a different name tag. It wasn’t until some very broody looking man with sharp eyebrows came in yelling at the waitress about how he was glad she’d broken up with him, because she was terrible in the sack, that Korra had learnt the woman’s name was Asami. Korra had actually put the man and an arm lock and tossed him out of the café, then told him to stay away or she would call the police. After that she consoled a crying Asami, who was trying to thank her through strangled sobs. Asami also promised that there would be a little bit more effort put into preparing her order in the future but her bacon always remained tuff and her coffee burnt.

Lost in her own feelings of nostalgia, Korra didn’t initially realise that her breakfast had been put down in front of her. It wasn’t until a hand waving in front of her face broke her from her trance.

“Oh. Hi Asami.”

The woman smiled at her. “I said long time no see, but I don’t think your really back, if your zoning out is any indication.”

Korra tried to resist her blush, “Yeah, the band and I just got back yesterday from our first international tour, You’re my first port of call, besides the welcome home party last night.”

“Well I’m flattered. And I’m sure there are lots of stories to go with that. You’ll have to tell me some time.” Asami winked at her and then flipped her hair as she made her way back behind the counter.

It was nice, this little non-serious flirting thing they had going. Sure there were days when it left Korra a little frustrated but it was a good thing they had going, it was fun and easy and commitment free and hers. She lived so much of her life these days living in close quarters with her band members, where everything was communal, that she needed just this one thing what was hers.

Korra hadn’t told any of the other band members about her crush on the waitress, hell, they didn’t even know the waitress existed. All through the tour they kept hassling her to take advantage of the fans throwing themselves at her and get her brains fucked out. Most of the time she felt like they were trying to live vicariously through her. Roku, their keyboardist, had a wife and young family back home, he spent most of his off time skyping them, and the band respected his loyalty to them. Aang, their bass guitarist, was married to their tour manager and the two of them were inseparable. Katara, Aang’s wife, acted like a hard nose but she also knew how to party. But at the end of the night no matter how many come ons they received, Aang and Katara only had eyes for each other. That ment it was left Korra and Kiyoshi to take up the mantle of living the ‘rock & roll life.’ Kiyoshi insisted that because she was fucking the female fans, it was Korra’s responsibility to ‘take care of’ the male fans but that just wasn’t her style.

The others always commented about her lack of a sex life. They knew she was Bi and told her that they would understand if she was asexual, that all she had to do was tell them, she responded by flipping them off and then masturbating loudly in the shower (not that it proved anything, but it shut them up for awhile, and made her feel better). She couldn’t tell them they she just didn’t get those urges, sure she got horny as hell and took care of it herself but she didn’t feel the need to have someone else satisfy them for her. Well, not just anyone, she had had a handful of people she’d felt that way around, but they were people she had really gotten to know on an emotional level, people she was honest to Raava attracted to, not just meaningless fucks. Asami was one of the few people she felt that way about, not that she would ever act on it.

As she chewed on the rubbery bacon, Korra’s mind drifted to what it would be like to date Asami. When she wasn’t on tour her schedule was fairly empty, there was the occasional jam session with the band but they were always afternoon things and since Asami worked afternoons, that worked well. Korra quickly stopped herself from getting too carried away. This café, this easy going thing she had with Asami, it as her happy place, and she didn’t wank to risk it by dating Asami, if it went wrong she’d have to find some other restaurant to go to for breakfast, some other waitress would serve her coffee and eggs, and sure, it would probably be drinkable coffee but it wouldn’t be Asami. She’d miss the way she wipes the cup clean with her shirt and they way she clear the place with a clatter. No, they were strictly better off as friends. 

It was better that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Well?
> 
> What do you think?
> 
> Also like I mentioned before I've been having rather bad writer's block, to remedy this I'm taking prompts to help coax the creative juices along. So if you have any suggestions, hit me up in the comments or over on tumblr.
> 
> Cheers.


End file.
